Numbers
by Snicker Puff
Summary: It's been 673 days.


Collins lay in bed. The bed he had once shared with Angel. It seemed so long ago that they had been together, and in fact, it had been nearly two years. 673 days.

Collins had tried not to count the days. It started with the funeral, four days after his death. Angel's birthday had come 36 lonely days later.

Their anniversary. 58 days. The 58th day had been the most painful. He hadn't known he was capable of the jealousy he had felt that day. He had been relieved when Mimi spoke of Angel. That Angel seemed to be happy. That he was no longer sick. But he wished it could have been _him_. Why had Mimi been allowed to see Angel when Collins was the one who loved him so?

He'd tried to stop counting, but it had become a ritual for him. Never did he write it down, never did he say it aloud. It was all in his mind, and as the numbers grew, they became something of a comfort to him. Each passing day was another day closer to that day when they would be together again.

Collins' birthday. 83 days. He had spent it alone, just remembering. He played through the events of the birthday they had spent together, and through his memories, the pain began to ease. They had been so happy together. Angel had showered him, not with physical gifts, but with his love and attention. He'd spent the day pampering Collins. He'd been served breakfast in bed, and then they'd made love for a long time, with beautiful and loving words passing between them. Afterward, Angel had brought him lunch in bed. When they finally got up, they had spent the rest of the day together, just the two of them. Never far apart, always touching, holding hands, sharing as many kisses as they could. Smiling, laughing, playing together. They made love again that night before falling asleep, naked and exhausted, bodies tangled together, surrounded by their love for each other. And while every one of the 307 days they had spent together were precious to him, his birthday was one he cherished above all. He wished he had had the chance to reciprocate.

The days became easier for him after his birthday. After Angel had died, his memories had at first been painful reminders of what he no longer had. After his birthday, he was able to remember his time with Angel for what it was – the happiest, most beautiful time of his life. Something no one could take away. Even with Angel gone, those memories would be something he could hold onto.

October 27. 365 days. All of Collins' friends, and even he himself, had thought this day would be the hardest. It hadn't been. They had celebrated. Celebrated Angel's life. Talked about him. Talked about her. Traded stories long into the night. And when they parted, Collins felt nothing but a sense of peace and happiness.

Day 649. The day Collins finally admitted he could no longer go to work. He'd been trying to finish his summer course, but on that day, he knew he would not be able. A colleague had graciously offered to teach the last three classes for him. After that day, things seemed to slow down for him. The disease was taking him more quickly than it had taken his beloved Angel, but it seemed to him to be so much slower. It had suddenly become much harder to get through each day. To get through them without Angel. For as he lay in their bed – he refused to go to the hospital – his memories now turned to those of Angel's sickness. They were not the ones he wanted to remember, and he tried desperately to think of happier times, but he could not. And as each day wore on, he longed for the day it would simply be over and he wouldn't have to remember his loving boyfriend, his beautiful girl, the way he had died. They would be together again, and they could create new memories to wash away the painful ones.

Day 673. He knew it would happen today. He didn't know how. It didn't feel any different than the other 23 days that he had been sick; he felt the same pain, the same sorrow. But somehow, he could tell. He wasn't afraid. He knew Angel would be there waiting for him. He said his goodbyes, just as Angel had, then asked his friends to leave. When Angel had died, it had been just the two of them, and that is how Collins wanted to die. With his Angel.

Closing his eyes, Collins allowed himself to relax into the blackness that was hovering around him. As his body stilled, the pain that had taken over his body, giving him no relief, even in his sleep, began to recede. He sighed as his body stilled, the coughing and the shivering fading from him. As the darkness surrounded him, he felt a hand against his cheek. Instinctively, he brought his own up to cover it, immediately recognizing that hand. He could never forget his Angel's touch. Turning to face Angel, he saw tears that he knew were streaming down his own cheeks as well. But they were no tears of sorrow. They were tears of joy. Tears to celebrate a new beginning. Together. As they leaned toward each other in a kiss, their first kiss in so long, a simple thought ran through Collins' mind.

One.


End file.
